


at the edge

by DizzyRedhead



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Dex has a lot of feelings, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, POV William "Dex" Poindexter, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rom-Coms, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyRedhead/pseuds/DizzyRedhead
Summary: So yeah. Nursey is a good writer, and he writes about Will. Like, he’s into Will. Those are two things Will knows.The third thing he knows is that this is going to change everything.





	at the edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pallidvixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallidvixen/gifts).



> For pallidvixen, who won my Fandom Trumps Hate auction and requested the following:
> 
> Dex has never understood poetry. After Nursey leaves his notebook in Dex's room after studying one night and Dex reads through his poems, he finally understands.
> 
> Basically a Nursey/Dex fic where Dex realizes Nursey is in love with him, he starts thinking about Nursey in a new light, reassessing their interactions, thinking back about their fragile friendship, realized he might be in love with him too, and then attempts to seduce Nursey.
> 
> Thanks again for all your patience with me and waiting on this fic. I hope it lives up to what you wanted!!!
> 
> Special thanks, as always, to ahausonfire and raspberrycordial for always being willing to listen and help me brainstorm; ahausonfire should probably get a coauthor credit on this, since she helped me come up with a good chunk of the middle and made it at least 100x better.

Will doesn’t mean to snoop. This peace between him and Nursey is still so fragile, so new, that it sometimes feels like one wrong word, one misplaced breath would be enough to shatter it.

He means to pick up the notebook and put it in his bag so he can give it to Nursey at team breakfast tomorrow. That’s all. But of course Derek Malik Nurse can’t have anything so ordinary as a spiral-bound notebook. What he has is some kind of overstuffed monstrosity that Will can’t get a good grip on, and when it slips out of his hands, pages go flying everywhere.

He gathers them up as carefully as he can--not that half of them weren’t already creased and marked anyway. Honestly, given the number of drinks he has personally witnessed Nursey spill all over the nearest surface, it’s kind of a miracle that any of these papers are legible.

His eyes automatically catch on a line here and there, despite his best efforts. Before he knows it, Will is sitting cross-legged on the floor, leafing slowly through the sheaf of papers as he reads. By the time he makes it through the entire stack, he knows three things.

Firstly, Nursey is actually a pretty good writer. Better than a lot of the people he’s had to read for class, that’s for sure.

Second, poetry and language aren’t exactly his thing, but it doesn’t take deep literary analysis to realize that a lot of these poems are about Will. Like, the majority. And not the kind of stuff he would have expected, either. Sure, there’s some irritation, some anger, but that’s not most of it. There’s a short series that seems to be about how he’s...attractive?

That alone is baffling enough, but not nearly as confusing as the fact that it doesn’t even seem to be an exclusively sexual thing. Will has been on the internet, he knows there are people out there who’re into redheads, for whatever reason. He’s not here to shame people for their attractions. But there are poems about wanting to wake up with him, wanting to know what he’s thinking. Poems about wanting him to be happy.

So yeah. Nursey is a good writer, and he writes about Will. Like, he’s _into_ Will. Those are two things Will knows.

The third thing he knows is that this is going to change everything.

* * *

It’s not that Will never noticed Nursey before. You’d have to be blind not to notice him, and Will has very good eyesight. On a hockey team full of very attractive people--you’d also have to be blind not to notice that--Derek Nurse is definitely one of the standouts.

But this is different. It’s not just about how soft Nursey’s hair looks, or the distracting way that damn tattoo draws the eye to the curve of his biceps, flexing under the soft brown of his skin. It’s not about the rich, red color of his mouth, a little wet from the way he’s always licking his lips, or the way his dark lashes fan across his cheeks when he blinks. It’s not even about the fact that his eyes are greener when he’s happy or excited, or the way they go gray and cold like the winter sea when he’s feeling down.

No, this is more. This is about the fact that Will knows now that all those words are inside Nursey, waiting for their chance to flow out onto the page. All those feelings about Will. It makes everything look different, gives everything a new meaning.

“Hey,” he says when Nursey tromps into the locker room the next morning, his eyes barely open as he strips off his sweatshirt. Will has a lot of practice Not Looking in the locker room, but all that rippling muscle is hypnotic, so it takes a minute for him to tear his eyes away. “You forgot your notebook last night.”

Nursey blinks sleepily for a minute before the words seem to make it from his ears to his brain. “Oh! Shit, yeah, I guess I did. Glad you had it, bro, I was afraid it fell out of my bag on the way back to my dorm.”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” Will says, sitting down to put his shinguards on. “Remind me at breakfast.”

“Will--” Nursey’s jaw cracks on a yawn. “Will do. Ha. Will do, Will.”

Will rolls his eyes as he pulls his socks and pants on. “Poetic, Nurse. Get your gear on before Rans and Holster get in here to yell at us again.”

Nursey flaps a hand dismissively in his direction. “You can go on without me whenever, you know.”

“Nah.” Will can’t help looking at him out of the corner of his eye as he straps on the rest of his pads and pulls his jersey over the top. “No man left behind. Get your hockey butt in gear.”

He can’t be sure, but he thinks something softens in Nursey’s eyes, just for a second. An answering warmth blooms in his stomach.

Will is starting to have the sinking suspicion that he doesn’t mind the way Nursey feels about him even a little bit. But now isn’t the time to think about this. He tucks the feeling carefully away for later consideration and accepts Nursey’s fistbump as they head toward the ice.

* * *

He does his best to be casual about giving Nursey back his notebook, keep it under the radar so no one else notices. But Will’s pretty sure if their skin color were reversed Nursey would be bright pink right about now. “Thanks,” he mumbles without making eye contact, stuffing the notebook into his backpack as fast as he possibly could.

Of course, since they’re not on the ice anymore, “fast” and “Derek Nurse” are two things that lead to disaster when combined. A few papers go flying under the table and Nursey comes within less than an inch of cracking his head open on the table as he dives for them.

Will pushes his chair back to make room under the table. Their eyes meet when Nursey looks up, triumphant, as he picks up the last sheet of paper. And look, Will is nineteen fucking years old, with a very pronounced sex drive. He’s not a saint. Seeing Nursey on his knees, his eyes glowing and excited...his brain goes in one direction, really. That direction isn’t even a little appropriate for team breakfast, especially not when Will is still in sweats.

He manages to tear his eyes away, but not before Nursey licks his lips like the fucking menace he is. Biting back a groan, Will does his level best to think unsexy thoughts for the rest of breakfast.

He’s able to make it to his first class without embarrassing himself with an obvious hard-on, but he’s acutely aware that this state of affairs can’t go on forever. Sooner or later one of them is going to snap, and a decision will have to be made.

But not now. Now he needs that brain power to try and understand data structures. There’ll be time to think about this later.

* * *

Will looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he’s mixing and nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus, Nurse, how long have you been sitting there?”

“Not long,” Nursey says easily from the kitchen table, his eyes lingering on Will for just a second before going back to the paper in front of him. “Thought I’d do some homework, but C is napping on the couch. Smells good in here.”

Realistically, there’s no way Nursey can know that the pink on his cheeks isn’t from the heat of the oven, but Will knows it’s a faint hope. Nursey always seems to see through whatever face he puts on, to pull his emotional reactions out. “Bitty said I could finish up the brownies while he Skypes with Jack.”

“Wow,” Nursey drawls slowly. “All by yourself? Impressive, Poindexter.”

“Whatever,” Dex mutters, turning his attention back to the batter. He came within a hair of overmixing in his distraction, he sees. He doesn’t even want to think about the face Bitty would have made when he tasted the brownies, but fortunately that crisis has been averted.

Will carefully scrapes the batter into the greased pan, smoothing out the top and putting it on Betsy II’s center rack before gently closing the door.

Only then does he notice the brownie batter smeared along his thumb where it had been holding the bowl. He pops it into his mouth instinctively; he’s honestly forgotten that Nursey is in the room until he hears the other boy’s sharp intake of breath.

The Haus kitchen isn’t that large anyway, but when their eyes meet it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Will is suddenly, viscerally aware of the fact that his thumb is still in his mouth, of the weight of it on his lower lip. Nursey’s eyes are wide and dark, his lips wet and red again where he licks them as his eyes drop to Will’s mouth.

The moment stretches out between them, heavy with everything they aren’t saying, with the inevitable gravity that’s pulling them together. Will pulls his thumb slowly out of his mouth, the wet pop almost as loud in the suddenly quiet room as Nursey’s shaky exhale.

Will opens his mouth, unsure what he’s going to say--

Nursey looks at him from under those long, dark lashes--

\--and Ransom and Holster burst into the kitchen, yelling loudly about how good it smells, trying to shove Will out of the way to get to the oven. The moment dissolves, trampled under their captains’ feet even as Will meets Nursey’s eyes. Something passes between them, a silent acknowledgment, but it isn’t the time.

Not yet.

* * *

That night, Will lies in his dorm bed, staring at the ceiling, and finally allows himself to think the thoughts he’s tucked carefully away as he moves through his day.

Nursey is into Will. The evidence is there; there’s no debating it. First, and most damning, the poems, but there’s no denying the other clues, the one’s he’s been trying to discount for awhile. The lingering weight of Nursey’s eyes that he’s felt too often for it to be a coincidence. The way he sits a little too close, leans into Will a little too hard for even the casual physical affection that’s normal on the team.

And Will...here in the darkness of his room, Will can finally admit that he likes it. That sometimes he does it, too. Today isn’t the first time he’s thought about making a move, about deliberately stepping into Nursey’s space and finding out if he can make Nursey lose that carefully cultivated chill in a different way than the fights they pick. Today is just the first time he actually thought it might have worked.

He can’t help wondering what would have happened if Ransom and Holster hadn’t showed up when they did.

Would one of them have closed the distance? Would Nursey have licked the dark chocolate flavor out of his mouth? Would Will have slipped his hands under that soft-looking sweater to finally find the texture of Nursey’s skin?

The noise that Will makes echoes in his quiet room, raw and hungry. He’s hard in his boxers, just from thinking about kissing Nursey. He runs a hand down his stomach, teasing himself with the light touch.

If he closes his eyes, it’s all too easy to imagine that it’s Nursey’s hand. God, Nursey’s hands on him--Will shudders. Nursey’s arm wrapped around him, Nursey’s hand skimming slowly, so slowly down his stomach, teasing under the hem of his t-shirt, Nursey’s voice in his ear. “Dex,” Imaginary Nursey breathes, but no, that’s not right. “Will…”

Will moans again, shuddering just from the thought. He finally, finally slides his hand down inside his boxers, wraps it around his cock and starts to stroke.

When he comes, scant minutes later, his back arching and his heels digging into the bed, it’s not “Nursey” on his lips.

It’s “Derek.”

This is going to work, he thinks as he drifts off to sleep. He just needs a plan.

* * *

The problem, Will realizes as he crosses yet another half-assed idea that would never work off his list, is that he’s trying to plan like he’s seducing himself. That would be easy. Will is a straightforward kind of guy, he would appreciate a simple declaration of affection.

But Derek--Derek is a romantic. Showing up naked in his bed would probably work, at least in the short term--he seems to be plenty allosexual, from what Will has observed--but it lacks a certain...something. So what Will needs is a Derek plan. Something that shows he’s in this for more than just sex, the same way Derek’s poetry showed him that. Something romantic.

Fortunately, social media has made this kind of thing easier, if still not exactly _easy._ A quick check of Derek’s Facebook page nets a list of his favorite movies. Will skips over the Mel Brooks classics--he loves them too, but they’re not exactly romantic. _The Princess Bride_ is, but Will has seen it enough times that he’s pretty sure he could quote the entire thing.

So, with a reluctant sigh, he turns his attention to the rom-coms. After some torrenting--because he’ll be damned if he actually pays money for _Titanic_ \--Will has a watchlist.

A few hours later, he also has a brand-new Tumblr account. He can’t really rant about this on his Twitter, or someone on the team will figure out what he’s up to. But he has to talk about it somewhere. Tumblr seems suitably anonymous.

leodeservedit: He said he would never let go. He should have gotten on the door, what the fuck? #the things i do for this boy

leodeservedit: WHY THE FUCK DID SHE TOSS THE GODDAMN NECKLACE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH RICH PEOPLE?!? #the things i do for this boy

leodeservedit: Note to self: always have a box of tissues handy when watching “Love, Actually” #the things i do for this boy #ugly crier #no really #it’s a mess

* * *

The knock on his door startles Will. He hits pause on _Love Actually_ and swipes at his face with a tissue, already knowing it won’t help.

Of course, when he opens his door he finds none other than Derek Nurse on the other side, looking soft and touchable in a green sweater and jeans. “Bro, are you okay?” Derek asks, his eyes concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Will says, stepping back automatically to let Derek in, trying not to feel self-conscious about the red, teary, snotty mess that he knows his face is. “Just watching a movie.”

“Yeah?” Derek flops down on the bed without waiting for an invitation, leaving just enough room for Will to squeeze in next to him. “Oh, _Love Actually!_ I love this fucking movie!”

Will’s stomach does a flip; Derek’s shoulder and thigh are pressed against his. He can smell Derek’s cologne. It’s so much. He’s tempted to just throw caution to the wind and say something, but he forces himself not to. “Wanna watch the rest? Or we could start it over; I’m almost done.”

“You sure?” Derek asks, looking a little uncertain.

“Yeah, no problem,” Will says, pulling the slider all the way back to the beginning. “I don’t mind.”

Derek’s mouth curls up at the corners in a little smile, and he leans a little more into Will. “Chill.”

It’s research, he tells himself. Sure, Derek’s into him. That part is easy. But making a relationship work is going to be harder. He can’t just be plain old Will Poindexter. He’s going to have to go all out.

He’s going to be the best boyfriend ever.

He just needs a plan.

* * *

After a good night’s sleep--with some very inspirational dreams--Will realizes he’s been overcomplicating this. He _knows_ Derek. He knows what Derek likes. He can do this.

First stop is Founders, where he swallows his pride and asks the student worker at the Information desk for poetry recommendations. Thirty minutes later his backpack is packed full of the maximum number of books he’s allowed to check out.

Bitty has classes all afternoon, so Will stows the books in his room. He’s fairly sure Bitty will let him borrow that picnic basket to carry them, especially if he tells Bitty about the plan. Then all he has to do is find a way to get Derek down to the Pond and Operation: Read Derek Romantic Poetry And Ask Him Out will be a go.

It’s not until he heads over to the Haus and Ransom and Holster drag him into liquor-inventory duty that he remembers the kegster scheduled for that night.

But Derek gets roped in, too, as part of their captains’ constant d-man bonding plans, and it’s nice. It’s nice spending time together, being able to sneak glances at Derek as they work.

Will’s waited this long. He can wait a little longer.

* * *

Will can’t wait any longer.

If he holds his beer any tighter he’s pretty sure the can will implode under the force of his grip. He’s not even very drunk, having been content for most of the kegster to hold up a wall and sip at his beer, watching Derek on the dance floor.

It’s just...Derek looks so good. He always looks good, so maybe this is just Will’s emotions talking. But the way the faded denim of his jeans hugs the curve of his hockey butt, the sheen of sweat on the arms bared by his tank top isn’t even the thing that’s making Will want to throw his careful plans aside.

No, the thing that’s getting to him is the look in Derek’s eyes every time they make eye contact across the crowded dance floor. Derek’s been dancing with all kinds of people tonight; SMH team members, random party guests of all possible genders. Will would have assumed he’d feel jealous. Threatened. Instead, it’s a rush. Because every time their eyes meet, Derek’s seem to be saying one thing.

Will just isn’t sure he’s reading it right. Maybe he is. Or maybe he’s just seeing what he wants to see. He needs to be sure.

He drains the last of his beer and heads for the kitchen to find some water. Maybe a clearer head will help him figure out the best thing to do.

“Whatcha doing, Dexy?” drawls a familiar voice behind him as he’s moving a small mountain of butter aside to get at the bottled water.

Will nearly hits his head on the fridge door, but really, he should have expected this. Of course Derek would follow him here. Into the dark, relatively quiet kitchen.

“Water,” he says inanely, gesturing with the bottle in his hand as he turns around. “Want some?”

“Sure,” Derek says easily, crossing the shadowed room to lean against the counter. He accepts the bottle Will digs out for him, his fingers lingering on Will’s for a second, and cracks it open, taking a long swig.

It’s hard to tear his eyes away from the line of Derek’s throat, the way it moves as he swallows, but Will forces himself to. He opens his own bottle and takes a drink. The cool water feels amazing, but it doesn’t help at all with the non-physical thirst he’s battling.

When he lowers the bottle, Derek is watching him, an unreadable look on his face, but all he says is, “You’ve got your thinking face on. It’s a party, Poindexter. Enough time for that later.”

“I know,” Will sputters.

“What’s got you thinking so hard, anyway?” Derek asks, leaning a little further into Will’s space.

The panic feels like lightning in Will’s veins. It isn’t time for this, this isn’t the plan, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I was watching Titanic the other day, and I was just thinking about the difference between the dancing parts in that and the kind of dancing people do at kegsters.”

Will has never,  in the entire time he’s known Derek, seen him light up this way. “Shit, yeah,” he crows, gesturing with his half-full water bottle and coming dangerously close to sloshing it everywhere. “I fucking love that scene; where they’re dancing in the hold? It’s funny, ‘cause that kind of dancing was considered low-class at the time, and now the party and club dancing is. I wrote a paper about it for my Film Studies class.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Derek is adorable like this, his eyes bright, his entire face expressive in a way it usually isn’t. He leans in, dangerously close. Close enough that his breath blows warm across Will’s skin. “Wanna know a secret?”

The answer is on Will’s lips before he’s fully processed the question. “Sure.”

“I loved that movie so much that I begged and begged until I got dance lessons so I could learn the dance from that scene. Wanna see?”

Before Will can force his few remaining brain cells to come up with a response, Derek is moving. He whirls around the kitchen, graceful in a way Will has only seen on the ice. It’s all wrong for the music that they can still kind of hear, the bass throbbing through the walls, but it’s mesmerizing. _Derek_ is mesmerizing, his eyes shining in the dim light as he goes up on his toes.

Will can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth any more than he can stop the breath in his lungs. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Derek freezes in mid-step, his eyes finding Will’s as unerringly as his passes find Will on the ice. “What?”

“What?” Will stammers, unable to do more than echo Derek’s words. He can feel the heat in his face, hopefully covered by the dim light. His whole body feels hot, actually, hypersensitive to every movement, every sound.

When Derek crosses the kitchen to stand in front of him, it’s slow and graceful, like every step is still part of the dance. Will can’t look away.

“You think I’m hot?” Derek asks softly. He’s so close, only inches separating their bodies.

“Well, yeah,” Will says inanely. “Have you seen you? I have eyes, Der--Nurse.”

Derek’s eyes go wide at the slip, and Will curses himself internally. This wasn’t the plan, damnit. But then Derek’s hand comes up, slowly, to rest on Will’s shoulder, and everything seems to freeze around them.

“Say it,” Derek says softly. “Say my name.” A pause, an indrawn breath. “Will.”

A shudder runs down Will’s spine; this isn’t a dream or a fantasy. This is reality. This is Derek standing in front of him, Will’s name rolling off his tongue.

Will licks his lips, acutely aware of the way Derek’s eyes fall to his mouth. “Derek,” he says softly. “You’re so fuckin’ hot--”

Derek’s hand slides around the back of his neck, fingertip skimming over sensitive skin. Will sways closer, his hands coming up to wrap around Derek’s biceps.

“Will,” Derek breathes. “Can I kiss you?”

The last chance to retrieve the plan floats away on those words, but Will can’t bring himself to care. There’s only one answer he can possibly give. “Yes.”

The press of Derek’s lips captures the last syllable, trapping it between their mouths. The kiss is everything they haven’t been, soft and slow and sweet. Will’s hands tighten on Derek’s arms, pulling him closer, desperate to bridge the last inch of space between them. Even through their clothes it’s so good, the hard, muscled mass of Derek’s body pressing him back against the fridge, that Will can’t help but groan.

Derek takes advantage of Will’s parted lips to lick slowly into his mouth. The taste of tub juice on his tongue mingles with the beer flavor in Will’s mouth until it’s impossible to tell them apart. Will had only thought he felt hot all over before; now he feels like he could catch flame. Every place where they touch is a flash point, a lightning strike.

One of them shifts, no way of telling which one, bringing Will’s cock, hard in his jeans, into contact with Derek’s. It’s like closing a circuit, electricity flashing from one body to another as they move in a slow, shuddering grind.

“Derek,” he forces out, his voice hoarse. “We can’t--not here--”

Derek buries his face in the side of Will’s neck for a moment, his breath warm and humid, his stubble scratching lightly over the skin. “You’re right,” he says when he finally lifts his head. His eyes are all pupil, just the thinnest ring of green around the edges. His lips are swollen from kissing; he looks fucking _debauched_ , and Will can’t help the tiny surge of pride.

“My room’s closer,” he says, the words traveling to his lips without encountering his brain. But it’s true; his dorm is a shorter walk from the Haus. As much as he hates the idea of trekking halfway across campus with a hard-on, some part of him refuses to entertain the idea of finding somewhere more private in the Haus to continue this. He might be operating on a new plan, now, but he can still do romance. Derek deserves romance. More romance than a quicky, sneaky grind in a dark corner.

So Will worms out from between Derek and the fridge, holding out a hand like he’s completely confident Derek will take it. And he does, lacing their fingers together and following Will out the back door.

“You’ve actually got game, Poindexter,” he said, the fondness in his voice making it sound like an endearment instead of an insult. “Color me impressed.”

Will shoots him a cocky grin and says nothing, his mind whirring with plans as they hurry down the sidewalk.

They hold hands the whole way there.

* * *

Unfortunately, Will realizes as he unlocks his dorm room--his movements a little awkward because he’s working one-handed--the walk might have given him too much time to think. Plans and ideas are spinning around in his head so loudly he’s surprised Derek can’t hear them.

“Will,” Derek says quietly as the door clicks shut behind them, leaving them alone in the quiet dark. “We don’t have to do anything, you know. Not if you don’t want.”

Will snorts inelegantly. “If you knew how many times I’d jerked off over the last week thinking about this, you’d know exactly how much I want.”

Even in the darkness he can see how wide Derek’s eyes are, the flash of tongue as he licks his lips. “Yeah?” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Will admits, reluctantly letting go of Derek’s hand to turn on his desk lamp. It’s not as harshly bright as the terrible fluorescent bulbs in the overhead fixture; still a little too bright for romance, but Will wants to see.

Apparently he’s not the only one. “Show me?” Derek asks.

Will hesitates, every moment of insecurity he’s ever had flowing together into one crushing wave. But then--

“I want to see you,” Derek breathes, licking his lips again. “I’ve imagined--I want to see.”

And just like that, Will can move again, sliding his hands down his chest and back up to the top button of his flannel. It still feels a little awkward, but it’s worth it for the way Derek’s eyes widen, his breath catches. “I’m not going to be the only one naked here,” Will warns, slipping the buttons free one by one under Derek’s heated gaze.

Derek reaches down to the hem of his tank top and wordlessly strips it over his head, only breaking eye contact when the fabric briefly covers his face. Will’s fingers slip on the buttons for a second, faced with all that warm brown skin over flexing muscle, and then again when Derek’s fingers go to the button on his jeans.

He finally manages to get the last button undone and shrug out of his flannel as Derek starts to pull down the zipper. Will rips his t-shirt off with more speed than style, desperate not to miss a single second of Derek here, in his room. Undressing.

It’s like that first drink after a hard practice or a long shift; his body recognizes something he needs and drinks it in. Derek is gorgeous, this was never up for debate. But Will thinks he’s never looked more gorgeous than he does right now. Standing in Will’s room, naked except for a pair of boxer briefs that do nothing to disguise his erection, the glow of the desk lamp highlights every plane and curve of muscle in gold.

Seeing him like this is quenching a thirst Will didn’t realize he had, but it’s not enough. He wants so much, so hard it twists his stomach into knots.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the quality ogling,” Derek says wryly, one corner of his mouth tipping upwards as he strips out of his underwear, his hard cock bobbing in a way that should be comical but just makes Will’s mouth water. “But I’d also like to not be the only one naked here.”

Will flushes, pulled out of his reverie, and strips his jeans off gracelessly. He hesitates over his boxers, but they’re so old they’re almost transparent, thin and soft from a thousand washes, so off they go, too, leaving his cock hard and leaking against his thigh.

Derek lets out a low, shuddering breath, crossing the space between them in two steps, his hands coming up as if to touch--but then he stops short. “Is it okay if I--”

“ _Please_.” It comes out desperate, needy, but then Derek’s hands are on him, stroking over his shoulders, down his arms, and Will doesn’t care. Can’t care about anything else, because this is real, this is happening.

“Will,” Derek breathes, his hands sliding reverently over Will’s skin. “Show me.”

“I was usually lying down,” Will says, because if he gets his hand on his cock right now he’s pretty sure his legs are going to give out.

Derek nudges him further back, until his legs hit the bed, follows him down. It takes a minute to figure out how to arrange two six-foot-two hockey players on a twin dorm bed. But it’s worth it when they’re settled and Will looks up to see Derek kneeling between his thighs, watching him hungrily, Derek’s big, cool hands a comforting weight just above Will’s knees.. “Show me,” he says again.

Will can no more deny him than he can stop breathing at this point; both are equally necessary for survival. He trails one hand slowly down his chest, feeling the familiar trail of coarse hair under his fingers. Derek follows their path intently, his hands flexing on Will’s thighs.

“You said you were thinking about this,” Derek says, his voice low and rough. “About us?”

“Yeah,” Will’s grateful he doesn’t have to meet Derek’s eyes, or he’d never be able to get the words out. But he wants to. He wants to tell Derek every filthy thing he imagined them doing together. “Thought about your hands on me.”

Derek slides his hands slowly up, up until his thumbs are resting on the cut of Will’s hips, tantalizingly close to his hard, leaking cock. “Here?”

“Everywhere,” Will breathes, his eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his hand around his cock. His hips buck up off the bed, just a little, but Derek pushes them back down. Will is completely unable to stop the embarrassing noise that comes out of his throat at that. “Fuck--Derek--”

“You like that,” Derek observes. “Was that one of the things you were thinking about?”

“Well, I am now,” Will says, his voice breathless. “Mostly I was thinking about you saying my name.”

Derek braces one hand on the bed and leans down until his lips brush against Will’s ear. Just like in the kitchen, except now they’re horizontal, naked skin on naked skin, hot and perfect. “Will,” he breathes, reaching down between them to wrap his other hand around both their cocks. “You like it when I say your name?”

Will shudders, moaning as Derek starts to move, grinding down against him as his hand strokes over their cocks. “Yes,” he grits out. “Derek, please--”

It’s Derek’s turn to shudder, closing his teeth on Will’s earlobe. “I got you,” he rasps, moving faster. Will grinds up into it as much as he can, but he’s mostly pinned under Derek’s weight. The most he can do is lift his hands, slide them down Derek’s back and get a good grip on his ass, urging him to keep moving.

“Fuck,” he moans, tipping his head back on the pillow as Derek gets those teeth on his neck. “Fuck, Derek, don’t stop, I’m close--”

“Me, too,” Derek gasps, lifting his head just enough that they’re face to face, looking into each other’s eyes. It’s simultaneously one of the filthiest and most romantic things that’s ever happened to Will, although he thinks vaguely that he could probably appreciate it more if all his blood wasn’t pooled in his cock. “C’mon, babe, want you to come all over me, wanna see you, come for me, Will--”

Will’s whole body locks up when he comes, arching up as much as he can with Derek’ on top of him. Everything is wet and slick and hot and Derek’s voice saying his name.

He opens his eyes--when did he close them? It probably doesn’t matter--to find Derek sprawled across his body like a particularly amorous blanket, breathing heavily into the side of his neck. He can’t bring himself to mind, although the rapidly cooling mess between them will have to be dealt with at some point before they end up glued together.

But for now, he rubs his hand up and down Derek’s back, luxuriating in the chance to touch. In this quiet moment when their hearts, pressed together, are beating out the same slowing rhythm.

All too soon, Derek is lifting his head, blinking against the light of the lamp. “Probably crushing you,” he mutters, shifting to the side and tucking himself between Will and the wall, one arm thrown across Will.

“I don’t mind,” Will says quietly. He traces Nursey’s tattoo with a fingertip, because he can. This is something he gets to do. The silence stretches between them, fragile and heavy.

“So we--” Will starts.

“Is this--” Derek says at the same second.

They start laughing, their bodies shaking together. Derek buries his face in Will’s shoulder as Will worms an arm free to wrap around him. It’s one of the best moments of Will’s life.

“You first,” Derek says finally, when the laughter trails off into quiet chuckles. “What were you going to say?”

“I was,” Will takes a breath. This wasn’t the plan, but he doesn’t want to waste another second on planning when he could be doing. “I was going to ask if you’d stay. Tonight. And maybe tomorrow I could buy you breakfast.”

Derek blinks at him, those stupid eyelashes fluttering. “You--we--this isn’t just sex?”

Will can feel the laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest again. “No, sweetheart,” he says, watching smugly as an incredulous grin spreads across Derek’s face. “I’ve been trying to plan how to ask you out all fucking week.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek asks, his grin widening. “You had a plan?”

“Fuck you, I had a lot of plans,” Will returns easily. “I was gonna read you poetry in a leaf pile down by the Pond. Or maybe I was gonna play you a song on the guitar. I mean, I’d have to learn the guitar first. And pick a song. But that’s totally doable.”

Derek’s smile softens and he leans in, kissing Will’s cheek softly. “Those are awesome plans, babe.”

“I know, right?” Will lifts Derek’s hand from his chest, brushing his lips across the knuckles. “Super romantic.”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, snuggling in a little closer and resting his head on Will’s shoulder. “But I’ll tell you a secret.”

Will waits for a moment, but Derek is quiet. Maybe he drifted off to sleep; Will’s feeling pretty sleepy, too. “What’s that?” he asks quietly, reaching his free arm over to turn off the lamp.

When Derek speaks again, his voice is slow and dreamy, but completely sure. “All you had to do was ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like dumb soft gay hockey boys, Check Please, and attractive celebrities with a smattering of whatever the fuck I feel like, you might enjoy [following me on Tumblr](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com). I always enjoy flailing! If you leave me a comment about something you liked in this fic i will love you forever :D


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